MEMENTO MORI   
AN ELEGY Upon the Unfortunate Death of Captain William Bedloe, Who Departed this Life, on FRIDAY the Twentieth of AUGUST. 1680.  

How fickle is the State of all Mankind?  
And how are all our Joys with Grief combined?  
Scarce can one say he lives, and doth enjoy  
The Blessings of this World, without allay,  
But some unhappy Chance disturbs our Peace,  
And all our Pleasures in a moment cease.  
The truth of which, Great Captain Bedloes Fate  
Confirms more than a thousand Instances of late.  
He who through various ways hath boldly ran,  
Boggled at nothing could be done by Man:  
At first misguided by his Popish Zeal,  
To serve his Holiness in any ill;  
On which the Jesuits put a Gloss of good,  
And whose Perniciousness waned understood.  
How eager was his bold Endeavour still,  
By any means the Protestants to kill?  
Until at last, being by Heaven inspired,  
He wisely from his former ills retired,  
And as a Second Saul he fiercely strove,  
As once his Hate, to manifest his Love  
To's Native Country and Religion too,  
Which former Mists would never let him do;  
And when Converted, All that e'er he knew,  
He boldly told, and nought but what was true.  
To him our English Nation much does owe,  
Who venturing all he had at one great throw,  
Valued not his Dear Life, so he might save  
The Kingdom's Ruin, and the King from's Grave.  
He was the Man, who many Plots revealed  
'Gainst the King's Life, which else had been concealed;  
He was the Man 'Gainst Bribes so Armour proof,  
That to be False thought no Price great enough.  
In vain the Romish Zealots 'gainst him say,  
That hopes of Wealth made him their Plots betray;  
For could he have been tempted by them to prove  
False to his King, and 'gainst his Country move:  
Their proffers large would not have been in vain,  
If he would for some Person's sake refrain  
To give in Evidence, but he withstood  
All the Temptations, to a seeming Good.   

Having at last been blest with a kind Wife,  
The only solid Comfort of Man's Life:  
And hoping now to live at Peace and Rest,  
And be for ever by his Country blest;  
Was strangely seized with a dire Malady,  
And by a strange unheard of Prophecy,  
He fancied all along, that he should die  
By that Disease, yet than he persevered  
In what he had said, and not one Tittle erred,  
As he was then even in a dying State,  
From what he ever did o'th' Plot relate;  
And before Witnesses at's parting Breath,  
The Truth of is Depositions sealed with Death:  
Now at his Loss, let this sad Nation mourn,  
And drop with Grief some Tears upon his Urn:  
Let us his sudden Death justly bemoan,  
Had he lived longer, he had more made known.   

Dear Dr. Oates, I must Digression make,  
And beg you would in this great Loss partake.  
You've lost a Friend that much did value you,  
Because like him, all you have said is true.  
Go on, Good Doctor, and whilst here you live,  
And this the Nations Loss you do survive.  
Witness the Truth, and be not you dismayed  
By threatening Papists, neither be afraid  
Of Popish Plots against you, for there's One  
That sits upon the Bright Celestial Throne,  
Will Guard you, and this Nation will Protect  
From all the Plots of the Proud Romish Sect.   
FINIS.   

LONDON, Printed for John Gay, at the Flying-Horse between St. Dunstan's Church and Chancery-Lane. 1680.